


Icing on the Gingerbread

by QueenPunk



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Christmas, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, New Years, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPunk/pseuds/QueenPunk
Summary: Tim had wanted to make a gingerbread house from scratch.





	

Tim had wanted to make a gingerbread house from scratch.

 

Did he know how to bake? No. Did he have any sort of artistic capabilities in order to decorate said house? Again, no. But he did have determination and boredom and a broken arm that prevented him from going on patrol. So, he needed something to do to distract himself from what he was missing.

 

Somewhere in between burning the cookie pieces and making the soupiest bowl of homemade frosting ever, Jason had plopped himself down in the kitchen. He teased him for his poor skills in baking and tried to offer a few halfhearted tips to help with the inevitable disaster. 

 

Somewhere in between taking the charcoaled lumps out of the smoking oven and determinedly blathering them with the slimy white icing (because it was going to work damnit!), Tim found himself wondering how he ended bent over the dining room table with Jason buried inside of him.

 

The fingers of his unbroken hand scrambled for purchase on the grain of the wooden tabletop. A moan bubbled up in his throat as Jason rocked faster and faster into him. Lips pressed against the back of his neck, a hand fisted in his long black hair. 

 

Tim rolled his hips back with each thrust, his cock weeping to be touched. Because Jason was a bastard, he just snatched Tim’s hand away before he could relieve himself, murmuring, “Did I say you could cum, babybird?”

 

Tim whimpered in response and Jason threaded their fingers together and placed them on the edge of the table. He pressed his overheated cheek against the cool if the smooth wood.

 

Jason sighed, “Fuck, you’re tight. When was the last time you got laid? Was it when I came to town a few months ago?”

 

“Ngh,” Tim tried to answer, but at that moment Jason started to move his hips in a circular pattern pressing against his prostate with each motion. “M-maybe it was-- oh, do that again.”

 

“Your wish is my command,” Jason mocked, speeding up the frequency of his hip movements. 

 

Tim lost himself into the sensations, spreading his legs wider to give him better access. Jason's free hand teasingly slipped underneath Tim’s loose black shirt, running his fingers right above where his aching cock bobbed. He lingered there for a moment before drifting his hand lazily upwards. 

 

Tim let out a small squeak when Jason pinched and twisted a nipple in a painful grip. He started to slam his hips forward once again, each harsh thrust digging the metal of his belt buckle into Tim’s flesh. The pain and pleasure made Tim writhe in ecstasy against Jason, begging him to push him over the edge.

 

Jason abruptly wrapped a hand around Tim’s throat, bending forward and twisting Tim’s head so he could sloppily press their lips together. Tim eagerly melted into the kiss, filled with tongues and teeth and awkward angles. 

Jason pulled away, loosening his grip on Tim who collapsed against the table, riding out the winding tension in his stomach that kept building and building. Jason's thrusts were starting to become more erratic, his breathing coming in pants.

 

A large hand gripped Tim’s cock, and Jason said, “Merry Christmas, babybird.”  
The hand started to stroke him lazily. Tim came with a silent groan falling from his lips, spasming against his lover’s body. Jason shortly followed suit, spilling deep inside of Tim. 

 

The two of them were still for a few moments, the afterglow just starting to set in. Jason slowly slipped out of him, turning Tim onto his back and sharing a tender kiss. Tim wrapped his weakened legs around Jason’s waist and brought up his hand to cup the side of his face. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Jay,” he murmured sleepily against his lover’s lips. As his senses slowly creeped back, the smells of sex and sweat and burnt food came through. “Alfred’s gonna kill us.”

 

Jason’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t worry, babybird. I've got a plan.”

 

“That makes me worry more.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------  
Two hours later, Tim found himself in loose jogging pants, one of Jason’s shirts, and he was covered with white patches of flour from head to toe. He one handedly held a piping bag filled with green frosting, trying and failing to decorate the gingerbread trees Jason had laid before him. 

 

Jason placed another set of precisely cut gingerbread dough pieces into the oven, adjusting the timer after wards to fit the size of the pieces, “I'm thinking we could do a replica of the mansion. How does that sound to you?”

 

“That sounds like you think we’re on some kind of cooking show. You do realize we aren't staying up all night to satisfy your weird impulse cooking, right?”

 

“It'll be a masterpiece!”

 

Tim rolled his eyes and set the piping bag down, not bothering to look at the three year old level icing job he had done. He took a seat on one of the barstools, content with just watching Jason bustle around the kitchen. Surrounded by warmth and good food and his lover muttering to himself, Tim relaxed. He fought to keep his eyes open as this little slice of out of character domesticity occurred around him.

 

Tim must have drifted off into a light doze for a few minutes, because one moment his eyes were closed and the next he opened them to see a mug of eggnog in front of him. 

 

He lifted up the mug, laughing a little at the Robin colors and symbol on it. “Alcoholic?”

 

“Is there any other kind?” Jason had his back turned to him, but Tim could see the occasional bag of icing in his hand. Tim wondered how long he had been out of it--was the mansion replica already finished? How many days had it been? Or was magic (science) involved?

 

“Alright, almost done,” Jason announced, quickly putting on the finishing touches to his ‘masterpiece’. He set down the the yellow icing and picked up the tray in front of him. He deliberately kept the finished product out of Tim’s line of sight, stepping sickly into the dining room.

 

“Does it suck that badly that you have to hide it from me?” Tim shouted into the next room.

 

Jason’s voice was muffled by the walls as he yelled back, “No cookies for the doubters!”

 

Tim rolled his eyes, stretching and standing up before gathering his mug. He slowly made his way into the dining room.

 

It was empty. No Jason or gingerbread house to be found in the space. Sipping on his eggnog, he followed his instincts and walked down the cold tiled halls towards this side of the mansion’s living room.

 

The room was pre-decorated by Alfred--as was the rest of the mansion--with garlands and flameless candles strewn across the fireplace and shelves. Yearly Christmas family portraits had been arranged on most of the shelves, beginning with Bruce’s grandparents and ending with this year’s photo. 

 

Set against one if the corners of the room was a huge Christmas tree, one of many they had present in the mansion around this time of the year. 

 

A newly kindled fire was just starting to flicker to life in the fireplace. Jason stood in front of it, stoking the fire with a pickon. Behind him, on center table, the fruits of his labor were set out in all of their glory. 

 

Tim hopped over the back of the couch to get a closer look in the dim lighting. He burst out into laughter upon seeing what Jason had done.

 

He had apparently given up on the mansion replica, instead making cutout version of each member of the family. Terrible, poorly drawn Christmas hat wearing versions of their family. Not even Alfred had been spared, his pencil mustache a bright, festive red. Damian’s had a mouthful of yellow fangs and was surrounded by his many, many crudely made pets. The Batgirl trio were posed around Dick, wearing their uniforms while the eldest Wayne son was clad in only a red Speedo and a Santa hat. Batman--cowl and all--had a thick, black furrowed brow and a thick white beard. Kate stood next to him, sporting the same beard. Duke’s cookie doppelganger was smiling and sporting a mistletoe necklace.

 

Jason reached into the cookie fray and picked up the cookie versions of themselves--the only decently decorated cookies on the platter. They were in uniform, each surprisingly detailed on a gingerbread man figure. The Red Robin had white snowflakes spread over its form and the Red Hood one did as well. 

 

“One for you,” Jason offered the two cookies out to him. Tim set his mug down and gingerly took the Red Hood cookie. Pleased, Jason smiled even wider,pulling the Red Robin one closer to himself, continuing, “And one for me.”  
Tim took a bite out of the head, licking red frosting off of his lips, “Merry Christmas, Jay.”

 

After taking a bite out of Red Robin’s legs, Jason leant forward, pressing a kiss to Tim’s cheek, “Happy New Years, babybird.”


End file.
